Go Big (2 page)

Fuck it if I wasn't here to play ball.

Spring training. Then up the East Coast to play for arguably the best team in the league.

My year in the minors had been exceptional, even I knew that. They'd offered me good money to stay. Not rigging money, but a lot for the minors. Begged me even. But I knew I could make tripple time on hazard pay out on a rig. So I'd left.

Meanwhile, the pro teams had taken notice of my record-breaking year. Nobody had more hits that year. Nobody had more homers.

They started calling me "the wrecker' after I'd destroyed more than my fair share of bats with my monster swing.

So, I'd taken a few calls. Even got a few invites to visit some big league teams. But only one team had sent a representative all the way out to the rig.

And he'd made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

Money. So much money it made my head spin. A three-year contract.

Hell, they'd even gotten me a place to live. A fancy ass New York City apartment with enough bedrooms for my family to come and visit. I'd be sending an even bigger check home every month. Forget new shoes, I was going to buy those kids a new
house.

I stuck a stick of gum in my mouth and threw my jacket over my shoulder. The sun was shining. The birds were singing.

It was a beautiful fucking day to be alive.

Camille

"No! Not that one. The blue silk."

I waved my hand in the air, trying not to lose my temper. My new maid was running in circles trying to keep up. I closed my eyes in annoyance. The dim-witted girl couldn't seem to keep anything straight. I wanted to tell her to get out of my room and not come back again. But my father's disapproving face hovered in the back of my mind.

'You're too hard on people Camille. Not everyone is perfect Camille. We can't all be YOU Camille.'

I stared at my face in the mirror and willed my rapidly escalating blood pressure into submission.

I will not fire another maid.

I will not fire another maid.

I will not fire another maid.

Maybe if I clicked my heels together three times she would suddenly become capable. Helpful. As it was, she was lacking in the domestic arts. She'd already ruined some fragile lingerie by bleaching it for no reason and burned a hole in one of my favorite dresses with an iron.

I blinked at my reflection. I could always do without a maid… then again, I was so busy I barely had time to use the bathroom, let alone manage all my clothes or cleaning up after Uzuri.

If I was going to make it to opening day of Spring Training, I was going to have to do it myself. And I had to be there to show support. As father reminded me constantly, I was the heir to the throne.

Our throne just happened to be built out of bats.

Thankfully, my hairdresser was exemplary. Always on time, always efficient, and most importantly, always
quiet
. Other women may enjoy chattering their days away, but not me. I had things to do and a limited amount of time to do it.

Not only was I a board member of numerous art funds, notably the Ballet and several museums,
 
but I single handedly managed the team's charitable functions. Most of those involved children. I shuddered. Not just children.
Sick
children.

Nothing made me more nervous than the children's wing of the hospital we had funded. The children always stared at me as if they wanted to touch me. They seemed to be drawn to me for some reason, always wanting a hug when I visited the hospital. Wanting to play with my hair or touch my skin.

It's not that I didn't like children. They were cute, in an abstract way. And I certainly wanted to help fund the research that would help them get well. Or even better yet, prevent future children from getting ill at all.

But I didn't like them staring at me.

Or touching me.

Or hugging me.

Not just children either. I didn't generally like being touched by anyone. I shivered, remembering the time I'd travelled home from boarding school on a public train. Grandmother had been using the second limo so my father had instructed me to travel by rail. He was always harping about being 'one of the people' and how I was 'missing out on real life.'

I hadn't enjoyed it at all. The seats, the smells, the other people brushing past me. But especially the staring. Every single person had seemed to stare at me.
Into
me. To this day, I cringed at the thought.

I'd taken two showers that night. And I hadn't spoken to my father for the entire spring vacation.

After that, we'd gotten a third limo.

Now we each had one. And we each had a driver at the ready at each of our homes. I paid for my own, from my trust, which I also managed. I'd doubled it in the two years since my eighteenth birthday.

I smiled as I glanced out the window at my new Italian sports car, sitting pretty in the driveway outside.
 

Of course these days, I liked to drive myself.

"This one ma'am?"

I closed my eyes again, praying for patience.

"No."

I brushed past her to pull out the French blue silk shift I was planning to wear. I paused, looking over my shoulder at the trembling maid. I couldn't remember her name but I forced myself to give her a small smile.

"But thank you."

I was congratulating myself on being nice to my maid when she shrieked behind me, nearly making me drop the dress as I slid it over my head. I grit my teeth, turning to see her standing in the corner staring at Uzuri. I'd told the girl ten times already that the cat was not dangerous, no matter how large and wild looking she was.

I reached down to scratch her head as she twined between my ankles.

"I told you, she wont hurt you. Unless you are allergic?"

I prayed fervently for a moment that she was. It would give me an excuse to let her go, with severance of course. Unfortunately she shook her head 'no,'

"No ma'am."

"Please don't call me that. I'm younger than you are."

"Yes ma'am."

I sighed deeply.

"Camille. Please."

I slid a few gold bangles onto my arm and checked my face. Then I slipped into some platform sandals and picked up my bag. I tried to ignore the maid who was still gawking at me. I decided I should say something amicable to her.

"Have a… nice day."

She nodded jerkily, clearly terrified out of her mind. I wasn't sure if she was more afraid of the savannah cat, or me. I took mercy on the poor woman and led Uzuri out of the room with me as I left for the clubhouse.

Chapter Two

Cade

I pulled my cap off, letting the hot sun beat down on my head. It was a fair trade, worth it for the breeze that ruffled my hair as we took the field. I tucked my hat back down and rubbed my knuckles against the glove. Like the cap, the glove was new and needed breaking in.

Apparently, I did too.

I was shortstop for this game, a fact that did not go unnoticed with the other players. It was a prestigious position, as was my line up in the batting order. The coaching staff was giving me all sorts of advantages, which wasn't going over so well with the team.

I wasn't making any friends today, that was for sure.

It had been like that in the minors too. This was a job. A serious one. People would do anything to be in my shoes right now and I knew it. We all did. And that made us wary.

Baseball was a team sport but also an individual sport in a lot of ways. It wasn't a non-stop bro fest like most people assumed. Most of the guys kept to themselves, earning trust over time.

And then there were some guys who were just real assholes. Bonafide butt puckers. Natural born winking starfish.

Especially the really famous ones from what I could tell.

One of the older guys had already knocked into me when we took the field between innings. 'By accident' of course. I'd given him a look and he'd grinned at me, like the Grade A dirt bag that he was.

K-Roll was one of the most famous ball players in the world. Too bad he acted like a spoiled little bitch.
I just smiled at him like the turd basting bastard he was. The first time I took bat I walked right past him and called him Prince Charming.

As in 'move your dainty ass.'

Let's just say he was not amused. I didn't give two shits. I just stepped up to the plate, and swung at what they gave me.

I hit a homer on my first swing as a professional ball player. It was just practice but still. It felt damn good.

Crack. Boom. Bam.

I get a straight face as I ran the bases. But as soon as I was back, I gave him the look. The look that said I'm having a shit eating picnic and you are the guest of honor. The look that said, here it comes, just for you! A whole plateful of humble pie. The look that said 'my dick is bigger than yours.'

Much, much bigger.

That one I had no doubt about. It was just one of those things. I was unusually blessed. I considered my equipment to be a gift from God. He might have made me poor and born into a real chicken scratch life, but he also gave me a killer swing and a giant dick.

A fellow couldn't really ask for more.

It was the first practice game of the season so the suits were all there. I saw Roger, the guy that came out on the rig and bought me out of my iron-clad contract with the oil company. I'd been less than three months into a five-year stint. But he'd taken care of it somehow, and here I was.

Harrison Rivers stood next to him. A few other lawyer looking fellows. And someone else.

A girl.

A fragile looking girl that made me stop in my tracks.

She looked like a doll. That was the first thing that popped into my mind when I saw her. One of those fancy antique dolls that cost a fortune. Porcelain skin. Huge China blue eyes. Dark shiny hair that looked like it was made out of silk.

Suddenly I understood why little girls liked playing with dolls.

I tried to keep my eyes on the game from the bench but it was tough. I kept looking over my shoulder at her. I had to stand to do it. She was slim, but curvy. She stood and I could see that she was petite. Little even. She stretched and I could see her legs.

I was a leg man.

And those were damn good legs.

Prize winning, blue ribbon, cherry on top legs.

I grinned, figuring this wouldn't be too hard. Women were easy for me. I decided she was going to be my next lay. I couldn't wait to make her acquaintance.
 

Intimately.

I was grinning when I took my turn at bat again. I was fourth in the line up. I knew it was an honor to be the designated clean-up hitter. I liked to think it was well deserved. But it was still an honor, especially on opening day. If I could really hit it out of the park, that would make my way easier with the little doll. Not that I thought I would need any help.

I lifted the bat over my shoulder and waited.
 

Camille

"That one. He's going to change the game."

I lifted my binoculars to my face, staring out into the field. The new player was tall, well built, almost too well built actually. His upper body was thick for a baseball player, so I doubted he'd have good speed. His face looked like it was carved of marble, all harsh lines, like a cowboy in an old-fashioned movie. He squinted in the sun, masking the color of his eyes. I made a sound, lowering my binoculars again.

"This is the one you paid through the nose for? He's untried. And he looks like a gorilla."

"Just watch. He moves around the diamond like a Goddamn ballet dancer."

I sipped my sparkling water and leaned back in my seat. Despite my intentions, my eyes kept returning to the player, almost against my will. He was fourth in the batting line up, which meant he was a power hitter.

When it was his turn, I found myself leaning forward in my chair. He held back on the first two pitches, as they were way inside. Then on the third pitch he swang. The crack sounded throughout the field, shaking the seat underneath me. My eyes were wide as the ball sailed neatly out of the stadium. I heard a crash and then a car alarm went off.

Well, that was a first.

"He can hit."

I had to concede that. My father's voice was full of awe. I could sense a full-on man crush in effect. I never understood that. Then again, my father had always wanted a boy.

"He's the best I've ever seen."

My father chuckled gleefully, rubbing his hands together. I couldn't help the trickle of resentment at the glowing look on his face. He'd never looked that way at me. No matter how high my marks were. Or how well I'd done with a fundraiser for the team's charity.

Or how much money I'd made him with my savvy investments.

"I still say you overspent on a rookie."

"Wait. He's not just a power hitter."

I went back to my phone, barely watching as the teams changed positions. I noted that the new guy was playing short stop, another vote of confidence from the coaches and my dad. I kept one eye on the new player, and one on my email. But the player was winning.

I inhaled sharply as the ball went his way for the first time. He lifted up into the air, twisting his body with extraordinary grace. He caught the ball and jogged back to the dugout. He knew he'd just ended the inning without waiting for the official call from the ump. He didn't even spare the other players a glance.

I felt a sudden shock.

He was ignoring the ump for a reason. He was too busy looking at me. I glanced over my shoulder to see if there was something behind me and then back at him. Nothing was back there. The man was definitely looking at me. I felt like I was caught in some sort of laser beam when I looked into his extraordinarily blue eyes.

His eyes were a startlingly bright hue. His soft looking lips were twisted in a wry smile. His handsome face was smug and knowing. I disliked him immediately.

He disappeared into the dugout and I turned away, ignoring the strange, hot feeling that was pooling in my belly.

My father was right. The man was gifted. He'd be good for the team, even if he was shockingly forward. I lifted my binoculars again. Time would tell if he was consistent. If he was, we were in for one hell of a season.